Batman: Illusions
by HarlequinOfHate
Summary: Batman finds himself in an unfamiliar situation, when he begins to dream of things yet to happen. Only Bruce can find the source of these visions, but will he discover the truth before someone really dies? ...I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!
1. The Death of Reality

****

Batman: Illusions (R)   
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
  
"Oh come on Batman, give it a rest."  
  
Bruce glared at the hideous clown, clutching his stomach with mind numbing pain. Joker had gotten a lucky shot in, reducing Batman to the status of just a mere man.  
Red caked his hand, dripping slowly down his suit and making small noises as it hit the concrete floor. He felt extremely dizzy, the loss of blood effecting his balance and vision, but he couldn't give up.  
  
Robin struggled vainly, the Joker's pasty hand pulling his small arm cruelly behind his back. Squeezing his wrist, Joker grinned down at him, the cold steel of his pistol ramming harder against his temple.  
"Ah Ah Ah."  
  
Tim ceased his attempts at escape, taking serious note of Bruce's condition.  
"Batman?"  
  
Straightening just a bit to fake his strength, he spoke loudly, his authority faltering as he gasped,  
"Let him go Joker..."  
  
His sickening laugh ripped through the warehouse,  
"Or you'll what?"  
Failing to dodge in time, another bullet tore from the gun in Joker's palm, striking him squarely in the shoulder. Batman silently crumpled to the floor, another sensation of pain ripping through him.  
  
"No!!!"  
Tim's voice faded as the world around him began to lose it's focus.  
The last image Bruce saw before losing consciousness was a laughing blob of white.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
The sound of metallic friction slowly filled his ears.  
  
"Rise and shine Batsy. I want you to be awake for this."  
  
Batman's eyes flew open as he was slapped repeatedly with a gloved hand. How he wished more than anything that he could reach up and return the favor, but to his disadvantage, he quickly discovered his arms to be chained securely to a metal operating table. This couldn't possibly be a good thing.  
  
Above him was a large florescent light, casting an off white, eerie glow over the room around them.   
Making a quick visual search of the area, he noted that the windows were barred and the door was apparently locked....he could get out of this, he knew it.  
  
In his thumb and index finger, the Joker twirled a recently sharpened scalpel, cackling evilly at his own insanity.  
"I'll bet you'll cut up real nice Batman. But not half as nice as Robin did."  
An awful sinking feeling grew inside of him as more howling laughter spread through the air.  
  
Desperately searching for Tim, he clenched his left fist with anger, visually locating him.   
Robin hung limply from rusty shackles on the wall, horrible cuts and lacerations covering him from head to toe. His body was gruesomely doused in a sickening crimson. But he was alive.....his breathing staggered and obvious.   
  
Bruce's good arm struggled against his restraints, rage boiling inside of him.   
"I'll kill you! I swear to God! You're dead you sick son of a-"  
  
His hand pressed over Batman's lips,  
"Now now Bats, I gave him the courtesy of his life, which is much more than I plan on extending to you."  
  
His head slammed into the table as Joker's knife penetrated his lower thigh, holding inside a scream with all that the force he could manage.  
  
After a minute or two of laughing, the sharp edge ground further, burrowing it's way into the bone, and turning slightly with a relishing gesture.  
"Come on Batman, I can't have fun if you don't tell me when it hurts. Don't be like your little birdie brat."  
  
It was a sick and encouraging thought to know that Tim hadn't given Joker the satisfaction of screaming.  
  
Giving up for only the moment, Joker yanked the small object from his leg, laughing at the involuntary jerk he had pulled from his victim.  
"I could keep this up for days Batsy."  
  
Ignoring him, Bruce focused on finding some way out of here, perhaps there was still something that might be able to be done about this situation. He tested all of the chains that held him, finding, to his relief, that the one attached to his right foot gave him a bit of slack.  
  
Glancing back at his enemy, he froze, suddenly struck with concern at the wondering look that had spread over his ugly face.  
"You know, I've had millions of chances, but I never...."  
He paused, reaching carefully over to the sides of Batman's mask.  
  
Bruce strained despondently, unsuccessfully moving away from Joker's curious hands. The fabric moved easily up and off of his face, lightly falling onto the metal beneath him.  
For once, Joker had no reason to laugh, a look of complete surprise on his face.  
"You! It can't be..."   
  
The moment of distraction had come at a high cost, but had still come nonetheless. He pulled up with his leg, cringing from the wound the Joker had so kindly given him. Kicking at the bonds that held him there, he easily freed his feet. The chain that wrapped around his hands, uncoiled itself from lack of tension.  
  
Sitting up painfully, he was caught off guard, yelling in excruciating pain as Joker stabbed his thumb into the gunshot on his side.  
"Just where do you think you're going Wayne?"  
  
His fist collided with a white jaw, sending the clown flying across the room and into a set of oxygen pumps. Scrambling from the floor, he bluntly swung at Bruce.  
  
He easily dodged him, knocking him again in the face. The Joker growled with anger, throwing himself roughly on top of him.  
They both collapsed to the ground, rolling aimlessly into the wall.  
Landing beside him, Batman crawled over to the Joker clutching his collar and pulling his face close to his own.  
"The key to Robin's locks. NOW!"  
  
Joker laughed,   
"You mean Drake?"  
  
Not a shock, Joker was highly intelligent, and had simply put two and two together. Bruce struck him again,  
"NOW!"  
  
Still smiling through a swollen lip and two missing teeth, Joker reached into his pocket, his hand roughly stopped by Batman's grasp.  
"Take it easy Brucey, or Timmy over there might get hurt."  
He pulled a black remote from his purple jacket, pointing innocently over to the oxygen tanks.  
  
A tiny bomb clung to the outside of the far tank, blinking in a slow gentle rhythm.  
Bruce clenched his jaw, overpowering his serious urge to punch him again.   
Pushing himself reluctantly off of him, he stood shakily upright, pulling the cowl back onto his face.  
  
"Ahhh, Batman again are we? And you call Harvey nuts. HAHAHAHAHA!!!"  
As he held his chest in laughter, Joker's thumb pressed down onto a button in the center of the thing he held.  
The bomb remained flashing silently as the door in front of them both creaked open. He waved idiotically.  
"Ta!"  
  
The door began to shut again, leaving Bruce and Tim trapped within the walls of an impending explosion. Diving at the closing exit, Batman slid his hand into the quickly reducing gap. It did not accomplish what he had meant for it to, instead crushing his hand as it continued to automatically seal.  
  
He finally let himself scream out loud, a new injury wracking his body with anguish. His left hand wrapped around the steel edges, pulling violently at the door, but with no success. It remained squeezing his palm, and breaking each bone in his hand.

***

Three hours passed, the faint blinking of the explosive burning a hole into his mind. He couldn't look at it any longer, but found serious lack of comfort anywhere else.   
  
Tim still hung limply on the wall, a dried brown covering most places where his skin should clearly show. Joker would pay for this, all of it.  
  
During what seemed like an eternity, he had drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain steadily lessening as he lay there. The massive blood loss he'd experienced and his current state of shock acted as natural painkillers, dulling any chance of feeling his wounds.  
  
The room around him spun awkwardly, making him feel a bit nauseous. He slammed his eyes shut, a small tear rolling gently down his cheek. He'd failed Tim...they were both going to die in here and it was his fault.  
  
Through his self guilt, faces and vivid memories of his lost loved ones flashed in his mind. He tried to escape the pictures in his thoughts, but was frightened to see them looming over him.   
He was becoming a tad delusional.  
  
"Never give up on what you believe in Bruce."  
The faces of Thomas and Martha Wayne came into focus. His mother held her hand out to him, worry ground into her expression,  
"Batman, are you all right?"  
Even through his extreme exhaustion, he knew that couldn't possibly be his mother. He was never "Batman" to her.  
  
His eyes filled with horror as the images of the two people he once loved more than anything, began to warp and melt, finally taking on forms that seemed more appropriate for his madness.  
  
A hand touched his face,  
"Batman?"  
  
Being pulled from his growing insanity, Bruce glanced up towards the distant and muffled voice. Barbara leaned in close, holding his head in her hands.  
  
Bruce's blue eyes narrowed, his will trying to mentally reattach himself to reality.   
"Nightwing, I think he's coming back to us."  
  
Another person filled his sight path.  
"Can you hear me?" Dick's words echoed off of the walls in his mind.  
  
Tears had welled up in Batgirl's eyes, trying to reassure him, she rubbed his arm. He couldn't feel it.  
"Hold on Batman, we're here now."  
  
**  
He didn't know how they'd gotten in here, but a large wave of relief had flown through him when he'd seen his companions standing above him. Tim would be all right now, that was all that mattered to him.  
  
Shaking violently, he began to push himself from the ground with one hand, his eyes watering from the reoccurring sensation of being alive. 'Ignore it' he thought.  
  
Dick rushed to help him,  
"Lay back down Batman, you're in no condition to-"  
  
He pushed him away, his voice weak and choppy,  
"The tanks, get out..."  
  
Batgirl looked at Dick, then back at Bruce, who was now fully standing, and wondered if he was still hallucinating.  
"Batman-"  
  
He somehow found it in him to yell, even in his current state, with his normal force and authority.  
"GET TIM OUT OF HERE!"  
  
Barb reached for Dick, mumbling something short and inaudible, then turned back to Bruce, leaning in to whisper,  
"Bruce, you're not thinking...you can't just say Tim's na-"  
  
An angry reply shot from his lips,  
"He knows."  
  
Dick had been undoing the locks around Robin's hands, but stopped to stare when he heard Bruce.  
"What?"  
  
Barb ran her hand along his head, feeling uncontrollable pity for the man she thought was temporarily out of his mind.  
"Who...what do they know Batman?"  
  
He rested his good shoulder against the wall, looking endlessly back and forth at the others.  
"Joker."  
  
Pulling Tim from the chains, and holding him in his arms, Dick walked back to over to them,  
"I don't understand."  
  
Frustration churned inside of him,  
"He knows!" Trying to make his point clear, he tore the cowl from his face. Barbara gasped,  
"He knows who you are?"  
  
Bruce shook his head, and slowly gestured towards them as well as himself,  
"He knows who WE are."  
  
Obviously holding his breath, Dick released a long sigh,   
"How?"  
  
Trying not to let his temper get the best of him, Bruce answered what he felt to be a stupid question.  
"He took it from my face. There was nothing.." He fell to his knees, the pink in his skin fading to a pale yellow.   
"..nothing I could do."  
  
Nightwing handed Tim to Batgirl, quickly helping Bruce back onto his feet.  
"We need to get you out of here."  
  
Again, he ignored the help he was offered,  
"Go, I'll be right behind you."  
  
Barbara shook her head,  
"No, we're not going to-"  
  
Bruce tiredly argued his point,  
"You'll move faster if you only have to carry Tim. I'll be here when you come back."  
  
Dick grabbed Barb's arm, leading her over to the corner of the room. They spoke silently for a few minutes, before Batgirl came back over to where Bruce barely stood.  
She hugged him with her free arm, and vanished through the door. Bruce looked up at Dick, a stern look etched on his face.  
"I meant you too."  
  
Pulling Bruce's uninjured arm around his shoulder, Dick slowly lead him out.  
"I don't listen to you, remember?"  
  
He hid a smile, concentrating mostly on keeping upright.  
"The bomb..."  
He trailed off, twisting out of Nightwing's hold, and limping to the canisters.  
  
"Bruce what are you..."  
Spotting the device on the tank, Dick again tried to move him,  
"Leave it!"  
  
They both froze as a small beep was emitted from it, revealing itself to now be armed.  
"BATMAN, LET'S GO!"  
Dick pulled on him again, this time succeeding in his message. They had to get out of there.  
  
Still bleeding, Bruce placed his crushed hand against his side as they again headed for the exit, feeling nothing but the urgency to evacuate.  
  
"Well if it isn't Bruce's little imp, Grayson. Come here to die did you?"  
  
Their eyes fell on him at the same time. Dick's grip tightened a little, his anger showing in his tone,  
"Joker."

***

Batgirl rested Tim gently onto the pavement in the parking lot, looking back up at the old Warehouse with worry. If they hadn't come out in the next five minutes, she was prepared to head back in.  
  
Searching around her, she spotted a payphone, running quickly towards it. First she had to take care of Robin.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
"I'll handle this."  
Nightwing released him, making certain he was able to stand before moving in between Bruce and the Joker.  
"Come a little closer and say that."  
  
"With pleasure."  
He pulled a card from his sleeve, throwing it viciously at Dick. He raised his arm to block it, letting out a painful yell as it sliced his skin. He recovered instantly, returning his eyes to meet Joker's with a hint of a smirk on his face,  
"That's it?"  
  
Joker looked slightly flustered,  
"No kiddo, actually I've got plenty more."  
He threw several others, the metal gleaming from the overhead light as they flew through the air.  
Each one found it's target, hitting random parts of his arms as he blocked them. He disregarded the new blood that leaked from his cuts, still staring angrily at his foe.  
  
Thinking for a minute, he snapped his fingers, pulling a large joker card from his front pocket and grinning hideously.  
"Time to die Robin."  
  
He flung the card, it's path headed stealthily for Dick's face.   
Two fingers flashed quickly from underneath it, pulling it from it's course.  
  
Joker's face sunk,  
"No fair Brucey!"  
  
Batman tossed the weapon aside, taking long, painful strides towards the seemingly shrinking psychopath.   
Leaving Dick seething inside of the little room, he slowly entered the hallway and drew in towards the Joker, his large hand wrapping violently around his neck.   
He pinned him against the wall in a rage filled frenzy, his fingers tightening, crushing the air from his throat.  
"Enough, Joker. This ends now."  
  
Joker still somehow managed to laugh.  
"You're right Brucey."  
  
A sickening feeling washed over him as he saw what was still resting in the Joker's hand....the remote. His purple gloved thumb pressed the far left button.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
Okay, that was it, she was going in. The ambulances had been there for 15 minutes, what was taking them so long?  
  
Making sure Tim was in good, none curious hands, Barbara ran for the building, seriously hoping that she wasn't needed in there.  
  
She was thrown from her feet, landing hard against the black turf beneath her as flames burst from the windows of the building.  
  
Coughing from the smoke that poured from the open doors, she pushed herself from the ground, screaming for her friends and hoping to God that they were all right.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
Bruce's eyes stung horribly as he opened them, the smoke filling every orifice in the area. He coughed loudly, taking a minute to search for the gas mask attached to his utility belt. His left hand wrapped around the elastic strap, pulling it gently onto his face.  
  
"Nightwing?"  
His voice was barely pushed from his chest, he wondered if he was even speaking at all.  
  
Reaching for a nearby doorframe, he slowly managed to pull himself up from the rubble. He was certain that what he lay on was none other than the floor of the second story.  
  
Walking hunched to ease the stinging and to avoid smoke, he stumbled around, insistently searching throughout the area's darkness.  
"Dick?"  
Silence consumed him, ringing loudly in his ears.  
  
Dragging his feet, he eventually caught his foot under a slab of concrete, sending him roughly to the floor. Smacking his hurt shoulder against the debris, he grit his teeth. Not so much out of pain, but sheer frustration of everything that had happened.  
  
He rested momentarily, everything he'd been through that night, finally catching up to him.   
He could feel the life slipping away from him as his breathing began to stagger, but he wouldn't accept it, pushing it from body and mind as it threatened to shut his eyes for good. He should've already been dead, only God knew why he wasn't, but first he needed to find Dick.   
  
Lifting his arm above his head, he started to crawl on his stomach, dragging his injuries across a jagged floor. The lack of pain briefly crossed his mind, but was disregarded as useless information. He couldn't possibly care about himself right now,  
"Dick?"  
  
He shook intensely as he moved, forcing another moments rest. For two minutes he lay deathly still, waiting patiently for the shuddering to subside.   
He had every intention of crawling every inch of this place to find Nightwing, yanking forward again.  
  
Soft gasping and choking stopped him in his tracks.  
"Dick?"  
Bruce's voice was still too weak, only reaching far enough for his own ears.  
  
Nothing...  
  
He started to wonder if he'd been hallucinating again. No, there is was once more...QUIET....but there, followed immediately by,  
"Batman?"  
  
He was alive, thank God.  
  
Bruce rolled over, wearing an exhausted smile before beginning to slip from the world. Tim was safe, and Dick was alive. Nothing else mattered to him.  
  
Dick bent down to him, trying to help him back up onto his feet. Bruce shook his head, resting his hand lightly against the face of a young man he's always considered to be a member of his family.  
"Go Dick..."  
  
He shook his head, confused,  
"What are you talking about? There is plenty of time to-"  
A loud rumbling came from somewhere above them.  
Pieces of the ceiling fell around them, but they had not been scathed by any of it.  
  
Nightwing knelt close to Batman's face,  
"Come on Bruce, get up....please."  
  
He pushed himself to keep breathing just a little while longer,  
"I'm sorry Dick."  
  
His face was filled with puzzlement,  
"What are you getting at Wayne?"  
  
He sighed, trying to again retrieve the energy for another apology.  
"I'm sorry for the way I've acted towards you Dick. You were always importa-"  
He coughed, a small drop of red leaking from the corner of his mouth.  
  
Dick put his hand under his back, pulling him up into a sitting position.   
"I'm getting the hell out of here, and so are you."  
  
A voice rose from behind them,  
"On the contrary Dickey Bird, neither of you are leaving here alive."  
  
Craning his neck, Dick turned just in time to inhale something Joker sprayed on him. He began to hack, his eyes watering uncontrollably. Twitching and convulsing, he fell to the ground next to Batman, still holding his hand cupped over his mouth.  
  
Joker's loud laughter was all Bruce could hear, presenting one more reason for Bruce to delay his growing darkness.   
  
Stepping over him, Joker grasped the front of Bruce's suit in his hand, a knife sliding perfectly into his hand.  
"I'd offer you last words, but I'm really not interested in what you have to say. Hahahahahahaha!"  
  
Taking advantage of the leverage, Batman threw a small explosive onto the surface above them, wracking the warehouse with yet another blast.  
  
A large piece of plaster achieved just what Bruce had hoped, and struck Joker on the forehead. He swayed about, trying to keep his balance before landing face first back where he'd come from.  
  
"Batman?"  
He looked up, hearing a faint female voice. He'd never been so pleased to see Barbara.  
  
"Dick, Joker-"  
He couldn't speak, slumping back down, and trying to remain in control of himself.  
  
Barb received his meaning, checking instantly on Nightwing. She placed her two fingers on his neck, leaving them there for a ludicrous amount of time. She moved her hand around his throat, searching.....  
  
"Oh God."  
Batman uttered. He was dead. This couldn't be right.  
  
Barbara broke down, loudly bawling as she fell over him.  
  
"No....."  
Tears blinded him as the world around him spun,  
"NOOOOO!!!!!!"


	2. Repeating?

Chapter 2  
  
  
  
  
"NOOOOO!!!!!"  
  
Bruce sat up quickly, his eyes darting quickly around the room....  
He lay safely in his bed, dripping with a solid coating of sweat.  
It'd all just been a dream...  
'No...not a dream. It was a nightmare.' He thought.  
  
He ran his hands through his hair, trying to let the images of his sleep fade quietly away.   
Flipping the covers back, he threw his legs over the edge of the mattress, letting his feet slide to the floor. He sat there for a moment, with his pounding head in his hands, thinking of how real it all had felt. Even...  
  
He looked around his body, verifying that there was not a single wound to be found.   
  
His door opened easily, admitting his most trusted family of all.  
"Good afternoon Master Bruce."  
  
He glanced up at Alfred, his face still twisted with the grief he'd felt in his slumber.  
"What time is it, Alfred?"  
  
Opening the curtains of Bruce's chamber, he glanced at the clock sitting right beside him.  
"2:24pm, Sir." He paused, then turned to look at him, "Are you feeling all right Master Bruce?"  
  
Rising slowly, he smiled at his old friend.  
"Yes, I'm fine, Alfred. I'll feel better after I eat breakfast."  
  
Looking at him smugly, Alfred walked to the door, "It's a bit late for that meal, Sir." Then promptly left him standing there alone.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
He sat at the table in the kitchen, reading the Gotham Globe, and sipping a cup of coffee. He'd resisted the serious urge to call Dick, just to verify that he was actually alive.   
  
Rubbing his forehead, which was now pounding incredibly, he pushed the thoughts of last night from his mind. They'd felt so real, he even thought he'd felt the pain. His head reminded him that he no longer wished to dwell on that...he'd have Alfred bring him down some Aspirin later.  
  
Pushing the chair back in as he got up, he grabbed the newspaper, and headed out of the kitchen.  
  
Doing his typical glance about, Bruce pulled the switch inside of the grandfather clock, standing back as it swung to an open position.  
  
It firmly shut as he descended, the lights around the cave blinking to life. Now was the time for review.  
  
Sitting in the cushioned chair in front of the large computer, he began pulling names and files from different data banks. He'd been leaning hard on some drug dealers, finally getting from them that a large shipment of questionable items was supposed to arrive tomorrow night, pier 18 at midnight, always at midnight. All he had to do was find out who was running the operation, and to place names on the buyers.  
  
A small hand rested on the back of the chair, the figure reading silently over his shoulder.  
"How was school?"  
  
Tim looked oddly at Bruce, it had been forever since he'd even cared to ask.  
"Boring. How else would it be?"  
  
Bruce smiled, turning his attention back onto the screen. Coming around and sitting on the edge of the console, Tim glanced back at the list of names.  
"Find anything yet?"  
  
He lightly shook his head, visions of Tim's cut body flashing through his mind before he spoke.  
"Not a thing. Though I have found a few leads to the locations of some of these men."  
  
Hopping down, Tim faced him with a smile on his young face,  
"Now that's the kind of assignment I can appreciate."  
  
Bruce twisted in his seat, looking sternly at the boy,  
"Speaking of assignments, I assume you have-"  
  
Tim's shoulders sank,  
"Homework, yeah yeah yeah. I'm going."  
  
Bruce smiled, hitting the escape key before following Tim up the stairs.  
  
He'd only gotten as far as the main stairwell before Alfred came around the corner, informing him of something on the news that he might want to be aware of.  
  
Rushing to the television, he turned up the sound, sitting routinely on the couch, and coming in on a breaking news bulletin  
"-had this to say." The screen flipped over to Jim shoving his way through the crowd, followed closely by Bullock, who turned to face the camera's, "No Comment!"  
  
Summer's bright face reappeared onto the screen,  
"Though the whereabouts of the Joker remain unknown, police insist that Gothamites remain calm during anoth-"  
  
He turned it off, feeling a bit sick. It was just a coincidence right?  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
"If you're going, I want to go too."  
  
Bruce pulled the cowl over his face,  
"No."  
  
Looking heatedly up at the man that was now Batman, Tim turned on his heel and stormed loudly out of the cave.  
  
He knew he was being overly protective, especially over a dream, but it really didn't matter, and to be honest, Joker was too dangerous for anyone to handle, even Batman. But it was his duty as the Dark Knight, the Defender of Justice, the Masked Vigilante...he could think of a million other ones, but it didn't make him feel any better about sliding into the seat of the Batmobile.  
  
He fired up the ignition, and threw it into drive, squealing slightly as he shot of towards the way out.   
Reaching down to the frequency tuner, he opened the police channel, listening for anything that might aid him in his search.  
"-car in pursuit of stolen vehicle, license plate number 283-"  
He changed to another,  
"-peat, we've lost sight of suspect. Use caution 331, male escaped from the Asylum earlier this morning. He is armed and highly dangerous."  
That had to be him. He waited for a minute, getting the location of the squad cars, and headed in that direction. They'd lost what he'd find.  
  
Pulling onto said block, he looked around, recognizing it as the area of Harleen Quinzel's home. He parked, instantly leaping out of the driver's seat and activating the car's security features.  
  
Grappling up onto the rooftop of the building across from hers, he aimed a small device at her window, and shot a bug against the glass. Placing the hearing piece into his ear, he listened, and waited for noise.  
  
His binoculars rested gently against his eyes, his gaze entering her home from the outside.  
She sat on the couch, staring unyieldingly at the telephone. He knew who she expected a call from, and that gave him all the more reason to survey her.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
Tim slammed his fist into the wall,  
"Damnit!"  
He was tired of being shoved aside, Bruce never let him handle important things. Sometimes he wondered why the hell he even bothered with it.  
"Because you love being a hero." He thought out loud.  
He really did. The adventure, and excitement of saving lives was nothing he could possibly replace.   
  
Checking the hallway for Alfred, Tim slid down the railing, and ran to the cave entrance. He was going to be there whether Batman needed him or not.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
It had been about an hour, and still she sat by the phone. He sighed, thinking dully to himself,  
'This could go on for days.'  
  
"RING!"  
  
He perked up, listening intently as she answered,  
"Hello? PUDDIN!!! Where? Oh but Puddin', you know I hate Warehouses, the air in those places is just-"  
  
He heard faint yelling, only imagining what was being said to her.  
  
"All right Mr. J. I lo-"  
Her hand pulled the phone from her head, and she looked at it like it'd just bitten her. Even with all she'd done, he really did feel pity for her and her delusions of Joker.  
  
He pulled the piece from his ear, replaying her conversation in his mind,  
'Oh but Puddin', you know I hate Warehouses...'  
Another coincidence.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
Dick answered the phone, hearing Barbara's lovely voice coming from the other end.  
"Hey Babs, what're you....what? He did what? Where is he? WHERE? I'm on my way."  
  
He slammed the phone down, heading quickly for Barb's house.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
Barb drummed her fingers on the coffee table, waiting for Dick to arrive. Tim had called her just twenty minutes before, telling her that he was going after the Joker. He had to be kidding!  
  
He'd sounded so sure of himself, and had told her of the Warehouse he was supposedly staying in. How Tim had gotten this information was beyond her.  
  
A light knocking emitted from her window across the room.  
  
She rushed to it, opening it to Nightwing's worried face.  
"Are you ready?"  
  
She pulled off her robe, revealing the suit underneath, and slid on her mask.  
"Let's go."  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
Batman always chose to do things the hard way. But not him, he'd gotten his information the easy way. Good old fashioned beatin'. That was always fun.  
  
He pushed the large metal door open, and snuck inside, trying endlessly to see in the pitch black corridor.  
  
He'd only gotten a few feet before a strong hand wrapped around his arm, and yanked him into a side room.  
He tried to yell, but a large hand pressed firmly over his mouth.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
He released Tim after he knew of whom had grabbed him.  
  
"What the hell were you doing? I could've killed you."  
Tim huffed.  
  
Bruce tried to see him better in the dark, but failed,  
"He's at the end of the hall, waiting for you."  
  
Tim was thrown back by his comment.  
"What?"  
  
Bruce couldn't be sure, but all of this was so familiar. It'd all happened before. But it couldn't be.  
"The thugs you used to find him, it was a trap."  
  
Looking towards the open door Tim wondered if he was right.  
"How did you know I-"  
  
Batman shushed him,  
"Quiet."  
  
He had always been a little intimidating to Tim, but now Batman was seriously startling him. He was talking so strangely, and was for the first time in a long time, scarring him.   
  
A car outside drove speedily by, shining light into the room for a brief moment. He'd been shot in the side, his hand cupped over the hole.  
"Oh my God. Batman, are you-"  
  
He cut him off, crouching further to the ground as noise floated from the hall,  
"Not now."  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
"Where did Bruce go, Alfred?"  
  
He thought for a minute,   
"I am not aware of his current location, but he did take his car."  
  
Dick pulled the lever, waiting for the clock to open,  
"Thanks."  
  
Alfred nodded before heading back to the chores,  
"You're welcome Master Dick."  
  
Barbara beat Dick to the computer, and set it to scan for the Batmobile.   
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
Were they hiding? He couldn't tell.   
  
After the noise subsided, Batman snuck over to the door, and peered out.  
  
"What do you see?" Tim whispered.  
  
"Nothing."  
He wandered further out into the hall, looking for any sign of the Joker. There was none.  
  
Tim leaned against the wall, angrily waiting for Batman to decide on what to do. This was just ridiculous. What was wrong with Bruce tonight?  
  
Deciding to check things out and then return, Tim crept out of the other door in the room.  
  
Batman returned, panic growing inside of him as he realized Tim was missing.  
"Robin?"  
  
There was no response. Where the hell did he go?!  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
"There they are."  
Dick's finger rested against the monitor, pointing out something that was already obvious.  
  
Barb halfway grinned at him,  
"So let's go there."  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
His feet silently made contact with the floor as he snuck forward.  
Peering around the corner into a large open area, he jumped at bit when he saw him.  
The lights around them flared, blinding him slightly as a firm grasp wrapped around his neck.  
  
His face was pale, a large grin painted evilly onto it.  
"Hello kiddo!"  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
The lights flicked on, alarming him even further. Where was Robin?  
But he knew where he was, somehow, he knew all of this.  
  
He began to run, making his way through three hallways he'd never physically seen before, but he knew them!  
  
Coming to an immediate halt, his heart skipped a beat. There they were.  
  
Joker held the boy, his arm pulled sharply behind his back.  
This wasn't happening.  
  
"Oh come on Batman, give it a rest."  
It couldn't be, it just COULDN'T be!  
  
Tim began to struggle against him, the Joker pushed his gun into his temple.  
"Ah Ah Ah."  
  
He felt violently ill, didn't understand how this was possible.  
  
"Batman?"  
Tim's face was filled with memorable concern. He tried not to, but it slipped out.  
"Let him go Joker."  
  
He laughed...again.  
"Or you'll what?"  
  
A thought ran quickly through his head. 'He's going to shoot me again.'   
He threw himself to the side, the bullet only cutting the edge of his arm.  
  
Joker looked frustrated,  
"It's either him or you Batsy. Choose!"  
  
Bruce pulled a batarang from his belt, throwing it roughly at the clown's hand. The gun flew from his fingers, giving Tim the opportunity to break free, punching him squarely in the face. Joker clutched his nose, yelling about pain.  
  
Batman stood, stopping just in front of him,  
"Pain?"  
His fist landed against a white jaw, knocking Joker to the floor, unconscious.  
  
He fell to one of his knees, trying to cope with the shot, and the knowledge of what would have happened if he hadn't....he didn't want to think about it.  
  
Tim helped him up,  
"Are you all right Batman?"  
  
He looked down at Joker.  
"I am now."


	3. Nightmares

Chapter 3 (Some of it anyway)  
  
His fists collided gracefully into the bag, sending sounds of grunts and thuds floating through the air.   
  
It had been about a month since his fight with the Joker, and Bruce had continued with his typical dreamless slumber.  
  
He hadn't informed anyone else of his dream, not wanting to bring extra attention to something that already frightened him. How the hell did it happen?  
  
"It works better if you put a picture on it."  
Tim stood smiling in front of him as he continued his strenuous work out, his small hands folded neatly into his pockets.  
  
"Did you do your-"  
  
He sighed,  
"Homework, yes."  
  
Bruce smiled, kicking the punching bag one last time before wiping the sweat from his forehead.  
"Suit up."  
  
Tim's face expanded with a large grin,  
"Are we going to bust someone?"  
  
He resisted the urge to ruffle up the child's hair,  
"Just patrol, but there's always the chance."  
  
Tim was already running towards his suit, yanking at the pants around his waist, and pulling loose the collar of his shirt.  
  
Bruce laughed lightly, turning swiftly towards Alfred as he descended the stair case.  
"How are you feeling today, Sir?"  
  
He glanced down at the reddened scar on his stomach,  
"Surprisingly well, Alfred."  
  
"That's wonderful Master Bruce, I assumed you would be needing this."  
In his hands lay a suit that emitted a life energy of it's own, sending out almost a feeling of placid authority and strength.  
  
"Thank you."  
Bruce's fingers clutched the material, letting it's coolness flow through his skin as he slid it over his body.  
  
Every time he placed the cowl over his face, he couldn't help but feel his other identity fading away into the distance, the aura of Batman filling his very soul.  
  
Routinely placing the belt around his waist, he looked down at Robin, and for some reason felt a surge of anxiety as he watched him leap into the Batmobile.  
  
"What are you standing there for?"  
  
He was pulled from his odd worry, casually making his way to the driver's seat.  
  
"So when do I get to drive?"  
Batman didn't bother to dignify that question with an answer.  
  
***  
  
The wind tore the leaves and litter from the ground as the batmobile drove swiftly through the streets of Gotham, it's passengers searching endlessly for the helpless victims of this diseased city.  
  
Two hours had passed and they hadn't seen so much as a pickpocket out to snatch a quick buck.   
  
Robin knew he should be relieved that no one needed to be saved tonight, but deep down he yearned for the chance to knock a punk in the face, stop a murderer, or chase down a bank robber. All his life he had wanted to be so much more than commoner, and now he was....he was a hero, and couldn't be happier about it.  
  
Nights like this always brought him down a bit, the excitement of stopping a criminal on hold for a while. Sometimes he wondered if the gangs in this city had selected "days off" from crime.  
  
A small noise, accompanied by a little red flashing light, boosted his spirits in an instant.   
Batman's foot pressed down on the accelorator....they were headed to work.  
  
***  
  
"197.."  
  
"198.."  
  
"199.."  
  
Dick rested for a minute, his arms aching from insistent exercise. He pulled himself up again, counting off two hundred before falling to the ground.   
  
Scolding himself for such a decrease since the last time he'd done pull ups, he silently promised himself that he would practice more. One of these days he was going to beat Bruce's record, though he wasn't sure exactly how much it had been. For all he knew, Bruce had gotten over 400 now...Dick didn't know if he could achieve that high of a goal.  
  
Using the back of his hand to wipe his face, he made his way over to the sink in the corner, pouring himself a cold glass of water. He sipped it, not wanting to upset his stomach.  
  
From downstairs came the sound of a telephone. He raced down the steps, answering on only it's second ring.   
  
"Hello?......Oh hi Babs.....huh?......No, nothing right now, why?.......all right, I'll be there as soon as I can."  
Resting the receiver back down, he leisurely made his way back upstairs, donning his other identity before slipping out the balcony and heading down to mount one of his bikes.  
  
***  
  
She had already suited up while she was waiting for Dick, hoping that he would hurry and get there.   
  
The police radio still transmitted with updated reports on the situation, keeping Barbara informed of where Croc was heading.  
  
She'd tried to get ahold of Bruce, but Alfred had told her he and Tim had gone. He was probably already there.  
  
About to wait by the window, the reports from the radio stopped her in her tracks,  
"Repeat, Batman's unconscious, Killer Croc's retreating into the sewers with Robin..."  
  
Oh god....She stared out the window,  
"Come on Dick!"  
  
***  
  
A large rough arm wrapped itself so tightly around his chest that he couldn't breathe. He struggled vainly, kicking and punching, trying anything to release himself.  
  
His hand grabbed at his utility belt, searching desperately for the flash bomb...there! He snapped the fuse, igniting it just while Croc's gaze moved towards him.  
  
He screamed in pain as it popped, dropping Tim in a moment of shock. The brown water beneath him swallowed him whole, acting as a perfect cloak for him to get far enough away to inflict some damage. When he lifted his head from the liquid, Croc was no where to be seen.   
  
***  
  
Batman opened his eyes, rubbing his head lightly as he was helped up by two police officers. The events that had just transpired slowly crept back into his mind, bringing his concern right back where it should be.  
"Robin..."  
  
Bullock pushed his way through the crowd, giving him an awful stare before offering a form of help.  
"He and the freakshow are down in the sewer. Was grabbed while you were nappin'. Maybe you should let the police take care of it next time, instead of puttin' a boy's life in danger."  
  
"Shut it Bullock."  
Jim came gradually behind Harvey, placing his hands in his pockets before speaking again.  
"They went down that way about five minutes ago, he couldn't have taken him that far."  
  
Bruce nodded, sliding on the pavement to squeeze himself into the large street drain. This wasn't going to be fun.  
  
***  
  
He slide open the pane, smiling as he hopped into her apartment.  
"What's up Babs?"  
  
She turned on her heel, her face full of worry.  
"We have to go, now!"  
  
His smile quickly faded,  
"What is it?"  
  
She grabbed Nightwing's arm and led him out, explaining as thoroughly as possible on the way.  
  
***  
  
The sound of running water ruined Tim's earshot. He couldn't hear the rats crawling disgustingly about all around him. He couldn't hear the dripping of the rain as the clouds began to release more liquid into the sewers. And he couldn't hear the sound of Killer Croc, creeping up as silently as possible from behind him...  
  
***  
  
Bruce waded through the rising water, trying to listen for any sounds of distress.  
  
The walls around him lay thickly covered in a brown ooze, half waste, the rest moss. This place was disturbing.  
  
Tim couldn't be that far away, and he was going to find him.  
He debated on whether he should use a light or not, the visibility in these pipes almost nonexistent. No, it's not safe. Croc would see him first, and could either avoid or attack him.  
  
All he could do was keep moving, and hope that fate was with him.  
  
***  
  
Tim opened one eye, the other painfully swollen shut. How had he gotten here?  
  
The room around him was large, and solid, the only noticeable exit being a small vent on the ceiling.   
Attempting to move his arms, a small pang of fear struck him as he realized his situation. He was bound to a short platform, already starting to lose it's leverage over the rising pool.  
  
The walls were covered in small to medium sized waterfalls, all adding to his panic. He had to find a way out of this or he would drown.  
  
***  
  
"Thank you commissioner." Batgirl yelled back as she dove into the sewer.  
  
He nodded, watching as Nightwing followed swiftly behind her.  
"Good luck." He spoke under his breath, saying a silent prayer for the four of them.  
  
***  
  
Batman pushed his way forward against the current, the sound of splashing getting closer.   
  
A loud grunt reassured him that it was indeed Croc that lay ahead, he only hoped that the creature hadn't done anything he'd regret.  
  
***  
  
The water seeped up the small of Tim's back, sending shivers down his spine.  
  
It was cold, ice cold, and it was causing his breath to catch in his throat. He debated on calling for help, wondering just how close Killer Croc was to him.  
  
***  
  
Nightwing had moved in front of Babs, making sure he'd receive any blows dealt in the dark.  
  
They heard the sloshing of the small river not that far ahead, someone was in front of them.  
  
***  
  
He almost didn't dodge in time as the fist came around the corner, sending a small jump through his stomach.  
  
He retaliated with a kick, hitting his target directly in the gut.  
Batman hated fighting without sight, but he couldn't risk giving his opponent the upper hand.  
  
Croc stood in front of him, breathing heavily. He wasn't sure, but Bruce thought that he saw a smile on his face.  
  
***  
  
All the struggling in the world wouldn't help him now. He was securely fastened to the steel platform, forced to wait for someone, anyone to find him.   
  
It wasn't until the water rose to his neck that he really began to fear for his life.  
  
***  
  
They had started to run, hearing sounds of a struggle not that far in the distance.  
  
Batgirl ran along side him as they pushed forward, feeling a little better about the surprise attack against Croc that they were going to deliver.  
  
***  
  
His large green fist wrapped around Bruce's neck, crushing the air from his throat. This didn't look good.  
  
He vainly tried to kick him, only making a small impact on the looming figure that clutched him.  
  
His ears caught it before Croc's, the sound of a fist flying through the air, meeting in perfect alignment with what you would consider his nose.  
  
The hand released him, leaving him to attempt a quick, gasping recovery.  
  
Nightwing had come from no where, accompanied by a high kicking Batgirl. He would never admit it, but they may have just saved his life.  
  
Bruce squinted to see Croc's face. It was a smile. He was grinning about something.  
  
***  
  
He'd had to shut his eyes, the dirt and other things floating in the water stinging them beyond belief.  
  
Cocking his neck, he tried desperately to hold on to air for just a little longer.  
  
***  
  
The large animal lay on the ground, beaten and bleeding, and yet he laughed, a booming, bone chilling laughter that echoed off the pipes.  
  
Batman grabbed his face in his right hand, squeezing with rage,  
"Something amusing?"  
  
He still chuckled, speaking through crushed cheeks,  
"You're too late ta save 'im Batman. He's dead."  
  
Something inside of him felt as if it were withering away.   
"Robin...." He trailed off, punching Croc in the face before continuing,  
"Where is he?!"  
  
He didn't answer, instead concentrating on something that only he would know.  
  
What happened next was something that would haunt Batman for a long time.  
  
"Batman!" A distant scream drifted throughout the sewer.  
  
He jerked his head up, not realizing he was leaving himself wide open.   
A fist slammed into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him back against the wall.  
Before he could even stand Croc was gone, vanished in the long string of tunnels.  
Blood streamed down his face, the bitter taste of iron hitting his tongue as he finally stood upright.  
There was no time to chase him, they had to find Robin.  
  
Nightwing and Batgirl were already scouring the vents, pipes and tubes, hopelessly finding nothing.  
  
Holding his breath, he listened, hearing another cry for help. It had to be coming from off to his left. He leapt down the slope, searching each pipe and vent before moving on.  
  
To his horror he almost past the right one, the only evidence that Tim was in there was a red blur under rippling sewage water.  
  
He tore the vent from the floor, leaping into the room below. It was over his head, making this one hundred percent more difficult.   
  
Dick and Barb were right behind him, all three diving and clawing at the ropes.   
Batman's knife sliced beautifully through the vinyl, releasing his young ally from his watery grave.  
  
Resuscitation offered no help once they pulled him from the room below, the three of them emotionally torn from the inside out.  
"Damn you Croc." Batman sobbed.  
  
It was too late, Tim had stopped breathing, his wet lifeless body providing the most painful emotions imaginable. He'd failed him... 


	4. It's Time

(THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS EVERYONE!!! :) I'D ACTUALLY FINISHED THE STORY A WHILE BACK BUT NEVER UPDATED OR FINISHED IT HERE. I'LL DO SO FOR YOU NOW. HERE'S THE CONCLUSION OF ILLUSIONS. :) THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING IT!)  
  
The bodies had presented no real clues that would lead him to suspect any particular person, the site where they'd been discovered also providing nothing.   
The list of criminals with viable reasons for murdering the Mayor and his son was too high, and pointing fingers wasn't going to get anyone anywhere.  
  
Batman stood, staring out at the water for a minute or two before silently moving back into the shadows. He always felt more comfortable there than anywhere else, using the night as a weapon against those that would kill the innocent. Those like Croc...  
He hung his head, battling the sadness that had been eating away at him for the past four weeks, the sadness that he'd been bottling in to hold onto his sanity.  
  
Somewhere deep inside he waited to wake up, desperately wishing that this was another illusion...that it was like before.   
But days melted into weeks, and still....Tim was dead, and his murderer had vanished soon after.  
  
He slid silently into the driver's seat, letting the car run for a little while as he pushed the past from his mind and returned to the present.   
  
***  
  
Alfred reached the phone on it's third ring, his charming voice dulled a little by his mood.  
"Wayne Manor."  
  
"Alfred? I need to talk to Bruce." It was Dick. The sound of his voice a little off, he sounded different...almost out of breath.  
  
"Master Bruce isn't in at-"   
  
He cut him off.  
"Tell Bruce that I need to see him at my apartment....now."   
  
The connection disconnected before Alfred could react to what had been said. He gently hung up the phone.  
"How odd."  
  
***  
  
She paused, squinting into the large space of darkness in front of her. Towards the back she could make out the skeletons of almost ancient cars.  
"Nightwing?" If it was so urgent, where the hell was he?  
  
He'd said Bruce was in trouble, but there was no sign of either of them anywhere. She ran the address through her head again, confirming that this was in fact the old auto-parts warehouse.  
  
***  
  
His finger pressed down on the receiver,  
"What is it, Alfred?"  
  
Alfred's voice was a little more fatigued than usual.  
"Master Dick called. He said that he wished to speak with you at his home."   
  
"Thank you, Alfred."   
Batman switched off the phone, turning the wheel back in the other direction. Towards Dick's apartment. They hadn't really been on speaking terms lately, so the fact that he wanted to talk made Bruce a little uneasy.   
  
***  
  
"Batgirl...over here..."   
She followed the whispering, keeping to the shadows as she wove through the piles of tires and rusty garbage.   
Rounding the large generator in the back she finally caught site of him, but why was he hiding?  
"Nightwing?"   
  
He shushed her, pulling her down into a crouch next to him.  
"I tracked him to this spot."  
  
She was a tad puzzled, hoping that he'd be filling her in any moment now.  
"Who?"  
  
He peeked over the edge of the generator, relaxing a bit.  
"Clayface."  
  
Her muscles tightened.  
"Clayface?" She suddenly felt alarmed, small noises from the corner of the warehouse making her incredibly nervous. Whirling around she found nothing but rats behind them, sighing lightly with relief.  
"Where is he?"  
  
***  
  
Dick leapt from rooftop to rooftop, slowly but surely making his way to the auto-parts warehouse.  
It wasn't like Bruce to leave a note at his house, but it couldn't have been anyone else, unless....no, that wasn't possible. If anyone knew who they were, they'd all be dead by now.  
  
***  
  
Batman left the window open as he searched the house, proving what he suspected...Dick wasn't home.  
  
Why would he ask Bruce to come if he wasn't going to be there?  
A little peeved, Batman almost didn't notice the small, crumpled piece of paper in the corner of the room. It looks like a list or a note.  
  
***  
  
The rodents around them scurried about, most disappearing back into the homes they'd built for themselves.  
"That's strange." Batgirl thought out loud.  
  
Dick stepped up right behind her.  
"What is?"  
  
"The rats, they're..." Running away from them....no, not them...him. That wasn't Dick.   
  
A large knot grew in her throat as the shadow behind her grew, swallowing her whole.  
She quickly turned around, only able to let out a small yelp before pain burst through her, and the world vanished into blackness.  
  
***  
  
Clayface removed his hand, watching with satisfaction as her limp body collapsed onto the floor.  
  
"Perfect!" The voice came from behind him, it's owner seemingly popping up out of no where. "Leave her there." He walked up next to him, looking down at Batgirl with a smile.   
The gaping wound in her stomach was a bit much, but dead is dead afterall. "The other one will be here any minute and I need time to prepare."  
  
"That wasn't the deal, freak!" Clayface huffed, his face shifting in his fit of rage.  
  
The slender man laughed lightly, the sound enough to unnerve even Matt.  
"You actually have the audacity to call ME a freak?" He paused, getting right up in his companion's face. "Don't test me. One turn of this dial and you'll be fertilizer."  
  
It angered him that this twerp had the power to boss HIM around.  
"Batman's gonna tear you to shreds."  
  
He grinned as Clayface filtered into the ventilation system.  
"No, he won't."  
  
***  
  
He unfolded the paper slowly, the words written on it sending a pang of dread into his heart. He looked out the window in the direction of the warehouse.  
"Dick."  
  
***  
  
Without a sound, Nightwing crept in through the darkness, taking the time to make a visual search before each step. This place is a new level of eerie, the rusted frames of cars and complete silence making it a true auto graveyard.  
  
This isn't right...why would Bruce want to meet here?  
  
***  
  
Batman dove out the window, flying down the fire escape to the Batmobile below. Someone knows...  
  
With the car already running, he shifted into drive, peeling out onto the street. Dick's walking right into a trap.  
  
He suddenly felt odd, his breath cut short by an unseen pressure and his eyes fuzzing out of focus. The world around him spun, all the colours blurring into reds and blues. He slam his lids shut, trying to block it out.  
  
After a minute or two, the pressure on his chest was relieved, his eyes opening to see the inside of Dick's apartment. In his hands was the balled up letter...he hadn't even opened it yet.   
A little dazed, he slowly shoved the paper into his utility belt and headed back to the Batmobile outside.  
  
What was that?  
  
***  
  
He scanned the area carefully before heading inside, the general feel of it sending a weird chill down his spine. Why would Bruce pick this place?  
  
Somewhere in the back of the warehouse was the soft sound of circus like music, gently reminded Dick of long suppressed past...  
Looking in all directions as he moved forward, the closer he got to that back room, the more his stomach knotted. What was this?  
  
He stopped just outside of the door, taking a long deep breath before peering inside. What he saw nearly buckled his knees.  
  
***  
  
Bruce's foot slammed down on the accelerator, his mind concentrating on everything else but the road.  
This was far worse then he'd originally thought.  
  
Someone knew...  
  
***  
  
His feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, dragging numbly behind him as he inspected things more closely.  
"What the hell...?"  
  
His mother and father....they were spread over the room, dozens upon dozens of photographs lining the walls like some kind of sick wallpaper.   
He felt dizzy, the reality of this not quite sinking in.  
A large blood red title over the door read "The Flying Graysons!", the pictures on that wall sporting the media's coverage of their deaths...the pictures of their bodies and the shots of him...alone.  
"What is this?!" He didn't know who he expected to answer that. Bruce hadn't left that note...someone else did.  
  
He needed to get out of there, the urge to be sick a little too powerful for him to fight off. Who had done this?  
Stopping dead in his tracks, he stared at the closed door in front of him. Had he closed it?  
He tried the knob, predictably finding it locked, and cursing himself for not seeing all of this for what it was...a trap.  
He cupped his hands over his mouth as the small almost invisible holes in the floor began to hiss, his lungs instinctively seizing up and forcing him to cough. Gas was never a good sign.  
  
***  
  
He checked his watch, a half smile lingering on his lips.  
"It's almost time, Bruce."   
  
The hanging figure on the wall remained silent as the crazed murderer in front of him left the room, the old cement holding his locks finally beginning to crumble and crack. Even if he couldn't get out in time, he was content on knowing that no matter what, the sick son of a b*tch that killed his family was going to die.  
  
***  
  
The images on the walls had started to crawl out at him, surrounding him...crushing him.   
"Why didn't you stop him, Dick?"  
  
All of them were talking in unison, his mothers crying out to him. "You let us die."  
  
He shook his head violently, covering his ears...trying to shut them out.  
"No!"  
He didn't need time to figure out who was behind this, his elbow crashing into the glass window of the door for a semi easy but painful escape from his own personal hell.  
  
He stumbled towards the exit, trying to ignore the music that continued to float from that horrible room. Shaking intensely, he leaned up against the wall, the urge to vomit finally overpowering him.  
  
"Nightwing!" Looking up, he caught sight of Batman on the catwalk above him, looming as always.  
  
After wiping his mouth, and making it to the stairs, Dick carefully pulled himself upwards, confused to see Batman crumpled into a heap on the walkway as he reached the top.  
"Batman?"  
  
No, it wasn't him..the person in front of him was far too small. He blinked away more hallucinations that had started forming in his eyes, gently resting on his knees next to the motionless figure.   
He turned them over, his face losing all colour and his jaw dropping slightly.   
"Barb?" It came out as a soft squeak, his voice catching in his chest.   
Tearing her mask off he tried desperately to wake her, shaking her body in his arms.  
"BARB!"  
  
"She's dead." Before he could look behind him, something slid over his neck, tightening itself enough to cut off his air flow. His fingers dug into it, the metal links grinding grotesquely into his skin as he's lifted from behind.  
  
"Scare....crow..." Is all he's able to choke out as he's thrown, the chain jerking him to a stop halfway to the floor.  
  
***  
  
He squealed into the parking lot, flying out of his seat and running full speed into the building.   
"Nightwing!" It wasn't normally like him to burst in, but this was one of the few exceptions.  
  
There was no answer, but music drifted from the back, beckoning anyone that would be close enough to listen to it.   
"Oh God..."  
He was horrified at what he found, the pictures in that room enough to vividly remind him of what happened. He could only imagine the effects it'd had on Dick.  
  
Turning around his heart stopped, something high above him catching his eye.  
"No....."  
  
He ran as fast as he could, his stomach lurching as he reached the top of the staircase. Barb....Dick....their faces twisted in pain...in death. He was too late...  
  
His knees buckled, a sorrowful scream erupting from his chest as the grief finally took a hold of him.  
For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry.  
  
***  
  
He smoothed back his hair and placed his hat over his head, smiling largely at the reflection of himself in the mirror. Spinning around, he stood up straight in front of his shackled prisoner.  
"How do I look?"  
  
He kept his head down, not even bothering to look. It didn't matter....they'd both be dead in less than an hour...  
  
***  
  
His face had lost all emotion, the events of that night taking him far beyond the point of expression. He was numb all over, his mind whirling rapidly, mixing all of his thoughts into an indecipherable blur...he'd been too late...  
  
Something beneath him moved, the small sound of footsteps echoing in his ears.  
It took all the willpower Bruce had in him to confront the shadow that had just entered the warehouse.  
Selina jumped, the smile on her face fading as the look on his registered in her head.  
"What's wrong?"  
  
His voice wasn't as powerful as it normally was.  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
She stared for a minute, trying to figure out if his cheeks were flushed or if it was just the lighting.  
"I saw your car...I thought I'd drop in and poke aro-" Her eyes shifted upwards, "Oh my God..." Her face became whiter than normal, "How-"  
  
He turned his back on her,  
"Get out."  
  
She put her hand on his arm,  
"Are you-"  
  
He spun around, his voice regaining it's authority.  
"GO!"  
  
She shrunk back, almost cringing,   
"All right...I was just trying to-"  
  
Again he cut her off,  
"I know."  
  
Halfway to the door, she turned back around, clearing her throat to get his attention.  
"If it helps, I saw someone leaving here a little while ago."   
  
He glanced at her,   
"Who..."  
  
She shrugged, her voice fading as she vanished out of the door,  
"I don't know, some guy with an ugly outfit, a cane and a bowler cap..."  
  
His body stiffened. Could he be involved in this?   
The image of that fat little bald man from earlier this evening flashed into his head.  
"Look, none of us know who he is. He calls us, tells where to bring the shipments."  
The cargo was microchips for some kind of machine, he'd taken a sample of one about a month ago from a shipment going to one of the university labs. All crates went to the same place...  
  
***  
  
Checking the time once more, he drummed his fingers over his desk, the light in his eyes growing with each passing minute.  
"Soon he'll be here." He spoke to no one but himself, a smile building as he raved. "And this time, it won't be me that dies."  
  
***  
  
After a few seconds, the now unlocked door swung open with a soft whoosh, his shadow casting perfectly against the tables as he entered.  
If he had anything to do with the deaths of.......he'd kill him.  
  
Everything around him looked untouched, the only proof of someone passing through there were footprints on the dust covered floor, and a heavy glow coming from a back lab area.  
He lightly pushed on the door, trying to see inside before blindly walking in.  
Batman squinted through the bright lights as his lenses focused, the image of the man before him penetrating his very soul.  
"It can't be."  
  
As Batman stood in shock by the doorway, he looked up from the wall, his body and face beaten and barely recognizable.  
"Run..."  
  
Bruce's mind ran continuously. How was this possible?  
"What?"   
  
He was injured, but still able to gather up enough force to command someone...even if that someone was him.  
"You have the power to stop this....RUN!"  
  
It had to be a mask, or some kind of suit. He couldn't actually be looking at...himself...could he?  
"Who are you?"   
  
He sighed, the sight of someone entering the room forcing him to throw away any hope he had left.   
But then, he knew he couldn't stop it anyway.  
"I'm the past."  
  
The person behind them spoke with an almost upbeat tone.  
"And YOU'RE the future, Bruce."   
  
Batman spun around, watching him carefully as he stepped into the light.  
"Fugate...."  
  
He chuckled.  
"How long have you know I was in town, Bruce?"  
  
He balled his fists, intending on punching him square in the nose if he said his name one more time.  
"Why were you at the auto-parts warehouse?"  
  
Pulling his glasses from his face, he began to clean them.  
"Just finishing up some business with a couple of my friends."  
  
Batman remained completely still, his voice low and carrying a hint of sarcasm.   
"What friends?"  
  
"Touché, Dark Knight...." He put his glasses back on, "I suppose you could call them hired hitmen..." He paused, gesturing towards the back. "I believe you've already met, Dr. Crane?" Stepping aside, two large men drug the body of Scarecrow out of the shadows, dropping him at Batman's feet and routinely returning to the side of the one that offered them the most cash. "Unfortunately, Mr. Hagen couldn't make it. Somehow the ventilation system got....waterlogged." He winked at him.  
  
Batman grit his teeth.  
"You hired them..."  
  
Temple nodded,  
"That's right, Batman. Though I helped them in their main goals, I let THEM decide on their own ways to kill your friends."  
  
He lunged at him, wrapping his gloved hands around his throat and furiously squeezing the life from him. He didn't care anymore...  
It wasn't until one of the guards beside them struck him in the face with the butt of his gun, that he was forced to stop.  
  
Temple Fugate stood up straight, regaining his composure. "The Mayor and his brat were the most fun I think I've ever had...though the kid had a little more struggling in him than his father. Killing really opens a whole new world for a man."  
  
"You're sick." Bruce seethed.  
  
He smiled down at him,  
"It's amazing how many lives you can change....manipulate to intertwine...."  
  
Rubbing the blood from his lip, Batman stood, the hatred inside of him so overwhelming, it was all he could do to keep from taking a life.  
"You did this. All of it."  
  
His eyes shifted towards him, staring with a sort of victorious gleam.  
"Why....yes, yes I did."   
  
"Why?!" He growled.  
  
"Why?" The corners of his twisted mouth jerked slightly. "Simply to do what others couldn't. To take from you everything you hold dear." Bruce felt ill, the room around him spinning madly as this murdering psycho continued, "What I can't understand is how you were able to recall the lapses created by my corrections. It was because of that alone that I had to go to all this trouble."  
  
He ground teeth together and clenched his hands, shoving out each word as if his throat was seizing up.  
"You shouldn't have."  
  
He laughed lightly underneath his breath.  
"Oh, but it was well worth the........time........"  
  
Bruce could only mumble one word,  
"How?"  
  
"You didn't really think I'd let you destroy all the prototypes, did you? That belt allowed me to access places and things that I'd never dreamed of. And as I'm sure you can imagine, I've had a few modifications made to it since then. Time is nothing to me anymore...because I carry it with me." He pointed to a thin, silver belt around his waist. "I can do anything I want."  
  
"No." Waiting for a few seconds of silence, Batman lifted himself from the floor, his first kick landing precisely on the left guard's nose, the second guard receiving an almost deadly blow to the neck. "You can't."  
  
"Hold this for me, will you, Bruce?"   
  
A small bomb slid across the floor, his hand wrapping gently around it as it stopped just by his feet.   
Clutching it in his hands, he grabbed Temple's shoulder as he depressed three buttons on his machine's faceplate, the pressure from earlier that night resurfacing once again as the world around them both started to spin.....  
"Fugate, stop!"  
  
His cane swung around, striking his hand with enough force to make him drop the explosive.  
"Are you trying to kill us both?!"  
  
Bruce turned around, the last thing he saw before flames filled the room was a smile on "his" face before they started to vanish into the fabric of time...safely clearing the detonation.  
  
***  
  
*ONE MONTH EARLIER*  
  
The world around him came back just as quickly at it had begun spinning out of control, sounds of cursing coming loudly from beneath him. He opened his eyes, jumping back as he realized his feet were just inches from the edge of one of Gotham's less appreciated business centers.   
  
Glancing over the side, he spotted Fugate, clutching so tightly to one of the gargoyles that his knuckles were turning white.  
"And here I'd been thinking you'd shoved me." He let out a nervous laugh, looking below long enough to let out a terrified utter. "I guess my calculations were a bit off."  
  
Though everything inside of him screamed against it, Batman reached over the edge...offering the one man he wanted dead more than anything, another chance at life.  
"Give me your hand!"  
  
He paused, trying to quickly figure things out before choosing,  
"No, you'll drop me!"  
  
His arm stretched further down,   
"Fugate! I won't let you fall....give me your hand!"  
  
The ledge he held onto began to crack and crumble, a small smile growing across his face as he came to the conclusion of his fate.  
"Do me a favor will you? Tell the other me about this when you see him later."  
  
The building broke from his fingers, sending him screaming floor by floor to his sickening death on the sidewalk a mile below.  
  
He stood, staring down for a few minutes before leaping off the edge and using his grapple to quickly descend down the structure. He needed that belt if he was to get back to some form of reality....  
  
His body had landed in an alley between a large and small building, attracting no one but a bum underneath a newspaper that fell back asleep almost immediately.  
It was no surprise to him that the belt along with the body that wore it had been broken beyond repair.  
  
"I told myself you'd be here." An arm wrapped tightly around his neck, dragging him from the spot he'd been leaning. Bruce couldn't breathe, the many attempts to remove the limb from his throat ineffective...he had no energy left to fight.  
  
The Clock King smiled as the syringe did it's job, the Dark Knight himself slowly loosing his ability to struggle with his hired goons.  
  
"Where do you want him, boss?"   
  
He grinned.  
"I've got a perfect place in my lab for him."  
  
Just before losing consciousness, Batman realized what the original Bruce had been smiling about....he never would tell Temple how he died...and until one of them did something different....they'd continue this loop...this circle that would inevitably lead to the same place...a paradox.  
  
***THE END*** 


End file.
